


What is Love? (Coffee don't hurt me)

by LunarCatNinja, ThatOnePlatypus



Category: Naruto
Genre: A lot of spite too, College, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Valentine's Day, and a normal college student's desire for coffee and free food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 03:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarCatNinja/pseuds/LunarCatNinja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOnePlatypus/pseuds/ThatOnePlatypus
Summary: “Huh,” Madara says, and there’s an idea. Only half joking, mind very much full of free coffee, and decidedly not thinking about the stupid crush he’s been nursing for a few months now, he looks at the albino, “You wouldn’t be interested in doing that as well?”Tobirama turns to him, and, deadly serious, says, “Madara, for free drinks at The Leaf, for a year, I’d be willing to do much worse than pretend to date you.”(For the Valentine's Event Prompt: __ and __ find themselves on a game show with Fake Date.)





	What is Love? (Coffee don't hurt me)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is our entry for Sloaner's discord's Valentine Event. It's a bit late, but oh well. It's still February at least.  
> The wonderful art is by the amazing LunarCatNinja, who also is an amazing beta!  
> Hope you enjoy!

The cafeteria is unusually crowded when Madara steps inside with his lunch. Most days people prefer to avoid the place – it never serves good food, except for Fridays. Today is no exception. Madara’s plate is full of some goop that smells like dirty socks. It is very telling of how miserable the weather is, that many people took refuge here anyway instead of seeking the food stalls outside.

After five minutes of searching through crowded tables, he finally finds Izuna, sitting with the _Senju_ of all people. With a mighty scowl, Madara sets down his lunch, and slumps into the only free seat, right across from Tobirama.

“Hey,” Izuna greets him absently, from where he’s busy ignoring his food in favor of his phone.

“Hello Madara.” Itama is the only one to look at him and give him a perfectly polite smile in greeting.

Madara grumbles a hello in return. This gets him an answering grumble from the guy sitting across from Itama, a distracted wave from Tobirama, and a raised middle finger from Touka.

Madara doesn’t even bother to glare at her, too tired to indulge in more than a passing fantasy of throwing his plate of goop at her face. He bypasses said plate entirely, and immediately grabs his cup of coffee – the only thing on his tray that he really intends to consume.

It’s bitter and black, and utterly disgusting, but it’s warm and does the job of waking him up a bit more.

“Dude,” Touka comments from where she’s staring at him with a rather dubious look, “I’m pretty sure that’s tar you just inhaled.”

Madara fixes her with a look. Grabs his second cup of ‘tar’, and downs it without breaking eye contact.

“You’re going to die,” Izuna warns him mildly.

“I have two essays due the end of the week,” Madara bites out shortly. “I’ll drop dead once they’re done, and not a second before.”

“Mood,” Tobirama mutters from his end of the table.

A look tells Madara that the albino isn’t eating at all. His plates are empty – _how_ , even if he suddenly couldn’t taste it, Madara doesn’t think he could eat more than half of it – and stacked in a corner of his tray. Three empty cups are stacked in the opposite corner. And in the middle, two books are open, Tobirama’s sharp handwriting annotating the margins.

Frankly, Madara is surprised Tobirama even came out of his room – or the library. Usually, they only cross paths on campus if Hashirama is here to drag his little brother with him. Which is a shame, but Madara isn’t thinking about that, no sir.

“I’m pretty sure I could put my computer in your eyebags, brother,” Izuna tells him, looking amused.

“Shut up,” Madara grumbles, not in the mood to banter.

Izuna shrugs, not bothered, and goes back to his phone. Across from Madara, Tobirama keeps scribbling and reading. Itama and the guy in front of him resume a conversation about a class project, that Madara tunes out. Accounting isn’t interesting.

He’s poking at his plate, trying to remember if Itama ever introduced his classmate to him at any point – he’s seen the guy before, Madara is sure of _that_ , but for the life of him he can’t recall his name – when the speakers in the corners of the room emit an ear-splitting screech.

“Hello? Ah, it works,” a voice says, static bursting along. “Could everyone look up to the front, please?”

A great wave of muttering and swears rises up, as people turn to look at the front of the room with mighty scowls. Announcements in the middle of lunch hour are rarely good news, and not welcomed – especially on such a miserable day already.

Madara twists, looking to the front. There’s a man there, wearing a suit, and holding a mic. He’s got an obnoxious smile on. Madara hates him already.

“Hello everyone!” The man takes a pause. A few muttered ‘hello’ are his only answer. “Right! I see the cold got to all of you! That’s alright, that’s alright, it is the season, isn’t it?” This time, the pause is much shorter, as he quickly adds, “Do you know what else it’s the season of?”

For a beat, no one answers. Then someone shouts, “Essays!”

There a smattering of laughs in the room, and a few people grumbling their agreements. The announcer lets out an awkward laugh.

“Yeah, that too,” he says, and quickly decides to move on, “But more importantly, it’s the season of love! That’s right! Valentine’s day is coming!”

“Oh gods, please,” Touka groans, and mimes retching over her tray.

She’s not the only one looking disgruntled or annoyed at the reminder. Madara certainly stabs at his plate with a bit more force than he needs to.

“Thus,” the announcer says, “the campus has decided to organize a week of themed events!”

That’s as far as Madara listens. Making a disgusted noise, he returns to his plate, tuning the rest of the announcement off. Who _cares_ about Valentine’s day? He’s got classes and essays and more classes to worry about. He’s barely got the time to see Izuna for lunch, and has barely the _money_ to buy said lunch.

Like hell he’s got time to fall in love and buy _chocolates_.

The only thing keeping him alive right now is spite and instant noodles. And coffee. Can’t forget the caffeine.

“Opportunistic capitalism,” the guy in front of Itama mutters, in what could be an approving or a disgusted tone – Madara can’t tell.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Itama comments, above the sound of people resuming their conversations without a care for the announcer, who is still speaking. “It could be fun.”

“If they do anything outside, in this weather, fun won’t be the word,” Touka snorts. She scoffs at nothing, “Valentine days events. Bah.”

“What, are you telling me you don’t want to take part in the…” Izuna trails off, trying to hear whatever the announcer is saying, “the _Lovey Dovey Hearts Race_ across the campus? Whatever the hell that is supposed to be.”

Touka looks like she’d rather stab herself with a rusty fork than take part in whatever that race is. Madara hates to agree with her, but he does.

The presenter keeps talking. Madara barely hears a mention of a _Find your soulmate_ event, something for celibates searching for love – probably for very desperate people. He doesn’t hear – nor listen – to the rest, much more busy with forcing himself to eat. He _paid_ for that shitty food, damn it.

“And, on the last day of the event, the _Lover’s Game Show!_ ” The presenter says, sounding like he’s desperately trying to keep his voice cheerful.

“Finally, last day,” Izuna mutters. “Can’t he be done already with his stupid announcement?”

“Half obstacle course, half trivia quiz, this competition is sponsored by the local tea and coffee shop, _The Leaf_!” The announcer says, and almost falters when suddenly everyone stops talking to turn towards him. Gamely, he keeps talking, “The first prize of the competition is a free gold card! Free drinks for a year!”

“Holy shit,” Izuna and Touka whisper in perfect, awed unison.

Madara is suddenly feeling much more interested by what the event is about – and he’s not the only one. It’s as if the whole room stopped breathing in anticipation. Even Tobirama stopped reading and writing to stare at the presenter with the same focus usually reserved to a final paper.

The poor presenter pauses, uncertain of what caused the change in interest.

“Um, right, to enter this event you need to check yourself in at the boot in the entrance hall of block B. It’s a couple competition, of course, and-”

“Shit,” Izuna and Touka whisper again, this time in very disgusted unison.

Immediately, the spell in broken, and whatever else the presenter says is lost to the cacophony of everyone starting to talk again.

“Kakuzu,” Itama says, turning a nearly manic look on the guy in front of him – Kakuzu, apparently, which Madara feels he should have known, “We’re entering this contest, and we’re winning.”

“Hell yes,” Kakuzu, whose eyes have been reflecting dollar signs since the presenter said ‘free gold card’, says with gusto.

Madara is pretty sure he hears a faint _ka-ching_ coming from somewhere, and decides that he’s not going to question it. He’s not going to question the fact that apparently Itama and this Kakuzu guy have been dating, either.

Slowly, Itama and Kakuzu start moving – they have a class right after lunch, apparently. This prompts Izuna and Touka to do the same, bickering all the while and complaining about missed opportunities. Madara, though, doesn’t move, his ears still ringing with the sweet, sweet promise of _free coffee for a year_.

He’s been poking at his plate for a bit, when suddenly fingers snap in front of his face.

“Earth to Uchiha,” Tobirama calls.

“What,” Madara says, and immediately notices that half of the room is empty, he and Tobirama the only ones still sitting at their table.

“Deep thoughts?” Tobirama asks, wryly. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Oh, shut up,” Madara says, not in the mood for their usual bickering. He sighs, wistfully, “You interrupted very nice fantasies.”

“Do I even want to know?” Tobirama says, wrinkling his nose – and it shouldn’t look cute, but it does.

“Fantasies about free coffee for a year,” Madara tells him flatly. He adds, “I didn’t know your brother was dating Kakuzu.”

He feel he should have known, since Hashirama would probably have come wailing to him about it if it were the case. Maybe, he reflects wryly, that’s why they didn’t tell him. Hashirama is already too dramatic.

“Me neither,” Tobirama says, pulling him from his musings. Frowns, “I’m half certain that they’re not. I wouldn’t put it past either of them to fake it to enter that contest and win that gold card, though.”

“Huh,” Madara says, and _there’s_ an idea. Only half joking, mind very much full of _free_ _coffee_ , and _decidedly not_ thinking about the stupid crush he’s been nursing for a few months now, he looks at the albino, “You wouldn’t be interested in doing that as well?”

Tobirama turns to him, and, deadly serious, says, “Madara, for free drinks at _The Leaf_ , for a _year_ , I’d be willing to do much worse than pretend to date you.”

Madara blinks, uncertain as to whether he should be offended or not. He settles for squinting suspiciously at Tobirama. When the only thing he gets is a raised brow, Madara huffs.

“Rude,” he says. “But fair enough.”

 

 

 

Tobirama’s flat is the same cramped little space as every other dorm on campus, and yet it somehow seems even smaller. There are papers and books crammed into every possible nooks and crannies, and more overflowing on the table.

The lack of space means Madara and Tobirama have both retreated to sit on the bed – as the floor is covered in papers as well – to peruse the event guidelines and start on a battle plan.

They’re having what amounts to a war council there, when Mito unceremoniously crashes through the door with a loud bang.

“Tobirama! I heard about the Game Show couples thing!” She shouts, from the entrance, out of sight. “Fake date me so we can win that sweet, sweet caffeine!”

“Sorry, Mito,” Tobirama answers distractedly, waving at her when she rounds the corner in a whirlwind of red and green, “But I already found a fake date.”

Madara grins at Mito, and wiggles his fingers in a smug greeting. Mito gapes at the two of them, and then scowls.

“Damn it, Madara,” she huffs, “You were my second option if Tobirama didn’t agree.”

“Please,” Tobirama snorts. “You’re dating my _brother_. Of course I wouldn’t agree.”

“Yeah,” Madara agrees, because everyone knows Mito and Hashirama are a thing and there’s already enough rumors about him being in a threesome with them floating around without adding fuel to the fire. He snorts, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Mito makes a disgusted noise, and grabs onto the counter. She hauls herself on it, and shoots the both of them glares.

“You both are terrible friends,” she says. “Who am I supposed to ask, then?”

“You have a boyfriend.” Madara feels like he should point that out again.

“Hashirama hates these kinds of events,” Mito says, and yeah, she has a point right there.

Madara shrugs. In front of him, Tobirama hums thoughtfully, still reading the guidelines and scribbling something about a training regimen on a blank page. He taps his pen against his lips, in a move that is entirely distracting, then glances at Mito.

“Touka?” He suggests.

Madara shoots him an incredulous glare – does he want them to _lose_? Mito and Touka together on a team would be a nightmare!

Fortunately, there must be some sort of entity watching over them, because Mito shakes her head.

“She’s the one who told me about the event,” Mito says, “She’s found a partner already.”

Madara frowns, but doesn’t curse. At least, Touka isn’t on a team with Mito. Whoever she found can’t be worse. From Tobirama’s slightly concerned frown, he disagrees.

Before he can say anything, though, Mito grumbles.

“I still can’t believe you two betrayed me like this,” she says.

“Too bad, so sad,” Madara says, and gives her a smirk. “The caffeine is _ours_.”

Mito’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Like hell,” she says. “It’s going to be _mine._ ”

“I’d like to see you try,” Madara says sweetly.

“I’ll destroy you,” Mito promises just as sweetly, and bares her teeth. “This means war.”

“Do your worst, witch,” Madara bares his teeth right back.

The expression Mito makes is a little scary, but Madara just gives her a jaunty wave as she stalks out of Tobirama’s flat. The door doesn’t slam behind her, which is scarier still. Madara drops his hand on his leg, feeling like he might have made a mistake.

Eh, worth it.

He looks back at Tobirama, to find the man staring at him with an arched brow.

“What?” Madara snaps.

“I thought the two of you were friends,” Tobirama says.

“We are,” Madara says, slightly confused. He and Mito have been friends for years. “Why?”

Tobirama’s lips are twitching.

“Nothing,” the bastard says, and he looks back down on his notes. “This explains a lot, is all.”

Madara squints at him, feeling like he just missed something. But for the life of him, he can’t figure out what.

 

 

 

The next morning, Madara shows up at Tobirama’s flat bright and early, feeling very much like he’s dying. He’s tired, and he’s cold, and he’s very much aware that the morning is only going to get worse from there.

A knock at the door, and Tobirama opens it. He looks just as bad as Madara feels, a steaming mug in his hand.

“I’ve made coffee,” Tobirama says as greeting.

“I could marry you right now,” Madara says with feeling, and gets inside.

Tobirama snorts, and hands him a mug of coffee, before shuffling back to his still rumpled bed. Madara drops his things on a miraculously empty spot on the floor, and awkwardly joins him there, hands clawed around his mug.

“So,” Tobirama says, once they’ve both drunk more than half of their mug and are just a little bit more awake. “What part of the training are we doing today?”

Madara makes a thoughtful sound around the rim of his mug. The event is going to be in two different parts. An obstacle course to weed out the majority of the competitors, and then a trivia quiz to determine the winners. Easy – except for the fact that they are to be tied together for the first, and take turns answering for the second.

Madara has no idea why he thought this was a good idea. Oh, right, free drinks.

What he wouldn’t do for free stuff and caffeine.

“I’m currently not awake enough to learn any sort of trivia,” Madara eventually says wryly. “So it’ll have to be the obstacle race training.”

“Urgh,” Tobirama grunts, glancing at the window, but he doesn’t disagree.

Frankly, Madara doesn’t want to go outside to try running together with their legs tied either. Not in this cold, certainly.

But it’s February, and there’s little chance the weather will be better for the actual event. They need to train, and they need to get used to it.

“You’ve got a rope, or something?” Madara asks.

Tobirama just grabs a belt from somewhere under his bed. It’ll have to do.

It takes little time to tie their legs together with the belt.

It takes much more time for them to take a few clumsy steps around the flat, Tobirama’s arm around Madara’s shoulders, and Madara’s own around Tobirama’s waist for support. They barely avoid stepping on a book twice on their way to the door, and almost fall over when they grab their respective coats.

“This is going to end in disaster,” Madara mutters, as they venture outside the flat slowly.

As if to prove him right, Tobirama overreaches – forgetting that Madara is much smaller, and has shorter legs than him, asshole – and they both lose their balance.

At least, Madara thinks sourly from his uncomfortable spot on the ground, it’s _way_ too early for anyone to see them make fools of themselves.

 

 

 

“Damn it, Uchiha!! The _left_ leg! The _left_!”

“Shut up, Senju, I _am_ lifting my left leg!”

“No you’re not!”

“We can’t all be bloody built like trees, you great giraffe!”

“It’s not my fault you’re so damn short and- _watch out_ -”

A yelp, and then a grunt.

“Fuck.”

Another grunt.

“I swear, if we don’t win that fucking gold card, I’m going to commit murder.”

“Shut up and get up, Uchiha. At this rate, the only thing we’re going to win, is the title of the most uncoordinated pair.”

A pause.

“Or, you know, a broken leg.”

“Oh, and that would be _my_ fault, maybe-”

 

 

 

Madara wakes up suddenly to the sound of an absolutely _awful_ alarm, screeching stridently at him. Blinking owlishly at his surroundings, he spots the offender on the other side of the room, on the counter.

It takes him just one second to realize there’s a weight on him preventing him from moving, and another second to remember what said weight is. Groaning, Madara slumps right back in bed, and viciously steals the pillow from under Tobirama’s head.

“Wake up, bastard,” he says, pushing and poking at Tobirama’s ribs. “Your fucking alarm is giving me a headache!”

Tobirama grumbles something into the mattress, that Madara doesn’t even want to translate, before huffing and hoisting himself up. He takes the time to shoot a very dark glare at Madara, before stumbling out of bed.

And then yelps when his leg fails to follow, sending him crashing down. Madara yelps as well, finding himself tugged towards the ground.

“Fuck sake,” Madara grunts, when he just barely avoids landing in a heap on Tobirama – and all of his stupid papers littering the ground.

He reaches to his leg, and quickly undoes the belt that they forgot to untie. In their defense, they both had crawled back to Tobirama’s flat cold and exhausted, with bruises in strange places and muscles that shouldn’t exist hurting. Crashing on the bed had seemed like a great idea at the time, and so they had a nap.

Except if the alarm is ringing-

“What time is it?” Madara asks, watching a newly free Tobirama stumble to the devil’s device and shut it up.

“A quarter to eleven,” Tobirama replies, absently, his attention on the half full but cold coffee pot. “Don’t you have a lecture soon?”

“In twenty minutes, apparently,” Madara groans. Peers suspiciously at the other, “Don’t you?”

Tobirama hums and nods, and pours two mugs of coffee before sticking them in the microwave. Turning, he haphazardly grabs several different papers and books from different spots, almost tipping one very large pile over. Madara watches it sway warily. He doesn’t want to die buried in papers, thank you very much.

Tobirama shoves his things in a bag he fishes from seemingly nowhere, and then stumbles into the very, very small bathroom.

Madara figures, when he hears the water running, that he should get up too, even if he just wants to lie back down and sleep more. He stumbles out of bed, avoids a stack of books just narrowly, and manages to plant himself in front of the microwave.

The second before it beeps, he opens the door and grabs one of the two mugs, leaving the second to steam alone on the counter.

When Tobirama comes out of the bathroom, Madara has drunk enough coffee to be more awake. It just means that he’s awake enough to feel awkward when he offers the albino the waiting mug, and then stays put against the counter.

He’s very, very acutely aware that he just spent more time in Tobirama’s company than he has in years. And a few hours of those were spent sleeping. In Tobirama’s bed. With Tobirama in it.

What the hell was he thinking when he agreed to crash back at the man’s flat.

“We’re meeting at the library later?” Tobirama suddenly asks him, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“Can’t,” Madara grunts. “I’ve got things to study on my own.”

Those essays won’t write themselves, after all.

Tobirama shrugs and nods.

“Tomorrow morning, then? Same time?” He asks, and well. It sounds decidedly less enthusiastic than when he suggested the library. Figures.

Not that Madara can blame him. Just the idea of repeating this morning’s disaster…

Madara groans.

What the hell was he thinking when he agreed to this at all.

 

 

 

Somehow, both Tobirama and Madara manage to walk, run, and even shuffle between a few cones without falling flat on their faces for as long as thirty minutes, on the second day. It might not be nearly enough to win what would no doubt be a hellish obstacle course, but it certainly is a start.

They keep going for another half an hour, only stumbling and crashing twice during the whole time, before calling it quits.

“Okay,” Madara pants, “I think that’s enough for today.”

He wants nothing more than to lay down on the ground. But if he does that he is pretty sure he won’t get back up.

“Agreed,” Tobirama says, wiping some sweat from his brow.

Unlike the previous day, both of them had the foresight to dress accordingly, and put on comfortable but ugly gym clothes. Madara is just now realizing the mistake in that – Tobirama’s shirt is clinging to his chest very, very snugly.

He may or may not make a sound not unlike a kettle.

Tobirama turns to shoot him a curious look, but Madara is studiously watching the sky, willing his thoughts to go away. A warm hand lands on his shoulder to attract his attention, and Madara has to turn again to face him.

“When do you have class next?” Tobirama asks.

Madara does a quick check of his mental schedule. He’s got a few courses in barely an hour.

“Soon,” he huffs. “My next free hour is for lunch.”

“Alright,” Tobirama says. “We’ll meet at the cafeteria?”

Madara snorts.

“No thank you,” he says. “I’ve got pasta at my flat, and I intend to eat it.”

“Fair,” Tobirama says wryly. “I’ll meet you there, then.”

It takes Madara a few moments, that Tobirama puts to use by undoing the belt around their legs, before he understands what he’s saying.

“I’m not cooking for you!” Madara squawks, offense surging.

“I’m wounded,” Tobirama says, shooting him a droll look. “You won’t even make me pasta. And here I thought you loved me.”

Madara can feel his cheeks heat up in anger, and makes a rude gesture towards the bastard.

“Buy yourself a fucking sandwich,” he snaps. “I don’t have enough to feed you anyway.”

“Hm, true love indeed,” Tobirama says, sounding way too amused.

“Do you even know where I live?” Madara says.

“Sure,” Tobirama shrugs. He adds, dry as dust, “Do you have coffee, at least, or should I bring my own pot?”

“Don’t be disrespectful,” Madara sniffs. “Of course I have coffee.” When Tobirama keeps staring at him with that infuriating raised brow of his he adds, “and I’ll make some, _obviously_.”

Tobirama makes an amused sound, but doesn’t reply. Rude.

 

 

 

They end up in the library, because of course they do. Winning the obstacle course will be useless if they get lynched during the following trivia quiz.

Tobirama’s hand is burning hot in his as he drags Madara through the shelves, deeper and deeper in the belly of this place. Having never stepped further than the aisle containing the required reading material for his lectures, Madara feels a bit like he’s discovering a whole new world.

Who knew the library was so big – or had so many tables in strange places, hidden from view between the shelves.

They stumble across several sleeping students, five more who are talking to themselves while scribbling frantically, until finally Tobirama deigns to slow down.

“The next table should be unoccupied,” he tells Madara in a quiet whisper. “It’s the one I go to when I need to study here.”

“Lead the way, o revered guide of the library maze,” Madara says dryly, but just as quietly – he’s pretty sure if he dared to speak at even a percent of his usual volume, the many students lost between the shelves would suddenly pop out of nowhere to murder him.

Tobirama doesn’t even reply, dragging him through two more aisles, before coming to an abrupt stop. He makes an offended noise, hand twitching in Madara’s grip.

“What are _you_ doing here?” He asks.

Touka and Izuna both turn to give them their most bullshit innocent smile. Madara would almost be impressed if he wasn’t growing very, very worried.

He knows that glint in his brother’s eyes. Coupled with Touka’s presence, and the fact that they are both surrounded by piles of books – when Izuna has never studied before in his life – Madara has a very bad feeling indeed.

“Why, cousin, the library is open to all,” Touka says, smiling with all her teeth. “But if you must know, we’re studying.”

“Together?” Tobirama asks, which is perfectly fair in Madara’s opinion.

The last time they left Touka and Izuna alone together, the both of them made something explode. Also, they regularly try to kill each other.

Which is why he feels like he’s justified in choking on his saliva when Izuna blithely reaches out to grab Touka’s hand, and gives them both a cheerful smile.

“Haven’t you heard?” He says, “Touka and I are in love.”

“Bullshit,” Tobirama accuses immediately, never one to be bothered so easily by something as mundane as his cousin suddenly dating his rival. His eyes narrow, “What’s your goal?”

“What do you think?” Touka says, and she smirks, playing with Izuna’s fingers. “We’re going to be in that stupid Valentine Game Show. And we’re going to _win_.”

The both of them high-five like the little shits they are, even as Madara splutters in offense and shock. Of _all_ the couples – fake couples, clearly – that they’d have to face, this one hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Tobirama scowls, but squeezes his hand in what seems to be a show of comfort. Madara would appreciate it, if it weren’t so bewildering. As it is, it helps him gather himself enough to scowl as well, and glare at the harpy and his evil little brother.

“Like hell you are,” he snarls as quietly as he can, “ _We're_ going to win.”

And before either of the evil duo can respond, he drags Tobirama off and into the maze of shelves again. For a moment, they keep walking, right until Madara pauses, and gives his unofficial guide a sheepish grimace.

“I have no idea where I’m going,” he admits.

Tobirama snorts, and then has to bring their joined hands to his mouth to muffle huffed laughter. Madara can feel himself grow red.

“Come on,” Tobirama says finally, tugging Madara gently along. “I know another table.”

That table, thankfully, is empty. They both deposit their bags, and the few trivia books they had found on it, before sitting.

Madara doesn’t even realize their hands are still joined until Tobirama tugs on it, red eyes on his fingers, lost in thoughts.

“We’re going to win, are we,” Tobirama says, slowly, thoughtful.

“Of course we are,” Madara says, bristling a little. When Tobirama looks over at him, Madara bares his teeth, and says, “Are you telling me you’re going to let your cousin and Izuna win?”

“Hell no,” Tobirama says immediately, pensive expression melting into a scowl again. “They’re just doing it to be annoying, I’d bet.”

Madara snorts. It’d be very much like Izuna. Annoying them comes first, and the gold card is just a bonus.

“We,” Madara says, decisive, “are going to destroy them.”

“For once,” Tobirama says, just as determined, “we agree. We’re going to _ruin_ them.”

They share a serious look, and unclasp their hands just to shake on it.

Touka and Izuna better watch out – this is war.

 

 

 

It starts snowing two days before the contest, late in the evening. Madara pauses in the middle of his stretches, staring at the first white flakes slowly drifting down.

“That’s going to complicate matters, if the snow stays,” he comments aloud.

The expected answer doesn’t come. Instead, Tobirama only gives him a distracted hum in reply. Madara turns, and finds his fake-boyfriend staring at the sky as well, a small smile playing on his lips.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Just stares at that smile, at the way Tobirama’s whole expression has softened into something utterly breathtaking. In the dark, his hair just as white as the snowflakes falling around him, Tobirama looks like he belongs in a painting, or maybe in one of those movie scenes that will be made into gifs a thousand times on the internet.

A flake lands square on Tobirama’s nose. With a burst of startled laughter, he wipes it off, and then raises his hand to try and catch another.

He must notice Madara’s staring, because he glances at him, still smiling slightly.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Nothing,” Madara says, a bit too quickly maybe. “You like snow?”

Tobirama hums, and turns back to the sky. The tip of his ears is getting red, and so are his cheeks, flushed with the cold, but still he doesn’t seem to care.

“I do,” Tobirama eventually admits, and then smiles again, so soft, “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

Madara’s can feel his treacherous heart beat harder in his chest, and doesn’t even think as he agrees.

“Yeah,” he says, staring at that smile, “it is.”

Tobirama turns, still smiling, towards him, and then lets out another startled laugh.

“You’ve got snow all over your hair,” Tobirama tells him, and absently reaches out to brush the flakes off. “You look absolutely ridiculous.”

“You’re the ridiculous one,” Madara mutters, unable to think of any better retort.

Hopefully, he thinks, feeling way too warm for how cold it is, Tobirama will blame how red he is on the cold. Madara almost thinks Tobirama’s hand lingers a little on his hair, his touch light and not unpleasant – but it’s stupid, wishful thinking, and he brutally stomps the thought down.

Tobirama hums thoughtfully, retracting his hand at last, watching him. Madara hunches down a little.

“What is it?” He asks, feeling absurdly defensive.

“Ah, it’s just…” Tobirama says. And then, “You know…”

He trails off. When he doesn’t say anything more, Madara tilts his head, curious. It seems to startle Tobirama, who shrugs and looks away abruptly.

“Nothing important,” he says, and brings his hands to rub at his arms a little.

“If you say so,” Madara says slowly. He shivers, and says, “Okay, let’s go back inside. It’s getting really cold out there. If you want to look at the snow so bad, you can always do it from my window, while you quiz me on international fauna.”

“Oh?” Tobirama says, and asks lightly, like the asshole he is, “Are you going to make pasta again, just for you?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Madara harrumphs. “I was going to ask if you wanted curry, but if you’re going to be a jerk-”

Tobirama laughs.

“Curry sounds good,” he agrees.

Madara grumbles at him, but does take Tobirama’s hand when presented with it, if only because his own hand is getting cold – and besides, they still need to pretend for anyone watching that they are a couple.

Maybe, if he pretends a little more, he can even imagine that it’s for him, and not for the snow, that Tobirama is smiling.

 

 

 

The day of the game show event dawns on a surprisingly nice day for February. The sun is shining, and there isn’t a hint of wind.

Of course, it means that the snow from two days ago is finally melting.

Which means that the obstacle course is full of mud.

Madara stares at the obstacle track grimly. This is going to be a giant mess. From the scowls and mutters around them, from the other competitors, he’s not the only one feeling that way. Still, no one seems about to give up because of some melted snow.

Nothing quite like the prospect of free caffeine for a year to get people motivated to ignore some minor inconvenience.

“Ugh. My clothes are going to be _ruined_ ,” a guy right next to him and Tobirama complains, eyeing the brown melted snow with horror.

“Oh, shut up, _dear,_ ” the guy holding his hand sneers. “You’ll survive a little mud.”

Madara eyes them warily. He doesn’t recognize them, but from the way Tobirama is rolling his eyes and twitching in distaste, _he_ does. Catching his interrogative glance, Tobirama leans towards him.

“The whiny one with the awful, oily perm is Gengetsu,” he tells him. “He’s in my marine biology course.”

“Alright,” Madara nods. “And his boyfriend?”

“I doubt they’re a couple, no one in their right mind would date Gengetsu,” Tobirama snorts. “And besides, that’s Muu. He’s in our marine geology class. He once tried to push Gengetsu down the stairs.”

“That’s…” Madara trails off, and then hisses. “Is there anyone in this contest that _isn’t_ a fake couple?”

Tobirama opens his mouth to answer, but the answer comes to them before he can, in the shape of Mito’s smug smile. At her arm, Hashirama is looking surprisingly determined, if awkward in his sports clothes.

“What an excellent question,” Mito purrs, casually holding her boyfriend’s arm. “We were wondering the same.”

“Anija?” Tobirama hisses, looking like someone dumped snow down his shirt. “What are you doing here? Don’t you hate these things?”

“I do,” Hashirama agrees, but he draws himself up, chest puffing.

Oh no, Madara thinks. That’s his earnest, idealist expression. The one he makes when discussing ecology, and world peace, and a lot of hippy things - that Madara respects, but Hashirama gets scary when he starts ranting about peace and love.

“But?” Tobirama asks, indignation and unpleasant surprise replaced by wariness - justified, in Madara’s opinion.

“But Mito pointed out to me how unfair it would be for opportunistic people to win something, making a _mockery_ of love!” Hashirama exclaims passionately. “And I agree! So we are going to win, to prove that love, _true love_ , is superior to greed!”

“Ah,” Madara says, and takes a wary step back, imitated by Tobirama. “That’s… great, Hashirama.”

He can see Touka pushing Izuna back a little further away down the line, her expression alarmed. A few others are sending Hashirama and Mito wary glances too.

Only Itama and Kakuzu don’t seem to care, the both of them looking perfectly happy together on the side. Madara has no clue whether it’s because they are an actual couple, or because they have no fear of god in them.

“You two,” Mito says, pointing a victorious finger at them, “Are going down!” She pauses, and adds with a sweet smile. “If you can even stay up for more than a minute during the obstacle race, of course.”

Hashirama’s smile gains an edge. Madara can feel Tobirama bristle next to him. Squeezing his fake boyfriend’s hand, he smiles right back at Mito, with all his teeth.

“At least, we’re not going to trip _on the way_ to that race,” Madara tells her with his nicest tone.

“You wish,” Mito tells him, smile thin. “I hope you slip and fall on your ass.”

“I hope you trip and eat _mud_ , witch,” he says back.

“Oh, well I hope you get mud in your _hair_ ,” Mito says, which, wow, rude!

“That’s a low blow,” he tells his friend. And then, because if that’s how low they’re going to sink, then he’s not about to lose, “Well I hope _your_ hair gets tangled around one of the obstacles, so that the exterior will finally match the mess that you are inside!”

Mito blinks, looking torn between offence and grudging admiration.

“Okay, that was uncalled for, but nice one,” she admits, crossing her arms. “Still. Takes one to know one.”

Madara grins, and opens his mouth to retort, when there’s suddenly a static screech. As one, every competing couple turns towards the platform where the presenter is. Unlike them all, he’s dressed in a warm coat, and looks much more cheerful.

“Hello everyone!” He calls. “How are you on this beautiful day?”

“Cold!” Someone calls from the back.

“Yeah, get on with it already!” Someone else shouts.

“Hahaha,” the presenter laughs a bit awkwardly, “Yes, I suppose you all are cold. Don’t worry, there will be a ten minutes pause between the obstacle race and the trivia quiz, if you want to get changed into something warmer.” He eyes the muddy track, and adds blithely, “And cleaner, perhaps.”

Unpleasant mutters rise up all around. The presenter, apparently not such a fool, waves them on.

“Go take your places at the starting line, couples! A few helpers will come by to tie you up together, and then the fun part can finally start!”

“Fun part, he says,” Gengetsu mutters besides them.

“In position!” The presenter cries happily.

The mass of competitors moves as a single, fierce mass. Some of them have murder in their eyes. Madara is starting to have slight Hunger Games vibes from this. Still, he thinks as Tobirama squeezes his hand, his eyes narrowed in determination, that’s fine.

The odds are in their favor.

 

 

 

The less said about the obstacle course, the better.

Madara is frankly stunned they manage to get across the finish line. They’re not first, of course, but given the mess the whole thing was, Madara isn’t even sure there _is_ a first. There must have been at least six couples stumbling through the line at the same time, all of them muddy, grumpy, and trying their best to trip each other while not tripping themselves.

The only redeeming part of it all, is that Madara isn’t the only one with mud in all sorts of places. Mito has been scratching her ear with a befuddled expression for a few minutes now, and that blond jackass - Gengetsu - is looking faintly constipated.

The judges are looking no better. They probably expected a cleaner race, Madara thinks, with three proper winners to fit their three rounds of trivia quiz.

Too bad for them, that’s not the case.

Next to him, Tobirama is shivering, scowling at nothing in particular. His hair is brown on one side, and there’s a large mud stain on his collar. Madara knows that he must look little better, since they were both pretty stuck together for the race - all the mud between them got rubbed in.

Still, he can’t help but nudge his partner in this mess slightly.

“Hey,” he says softly, “You good?”

“I’m cold,” Tobirama tells him shortly, sounding very irritated.

“Yeah,” Madara agrees, having guessed as much. “The moment they decide who won, we can make a break for it and get changed.”

Maybe even take a shower, if they’re quick.

“Ten minutes isn’t nearly enough time to go to my flat and come back,” Tobirama points out.

“No, but mine isn’t so far,” Madara says. “You can grab one of my shirts.”

Tobirama turns to look at him, for a beat, then nods.

“After deliberation,” the presenter suddenly speaks up, making all of them startle, “We’ve decided to keep five of the teams, as the finish line was crossed at the same time by many couples! It warms our heart that you all so clearly gave it your all, and as such, we will give two more couples a chance!”

“More like they couldn’t be bothered to try and check who won the race,” someone mutters.

“The following couples now have fifteen minutes to prepare for the next part of our show!” The presenter goes on.

Madara blinks, pleasantly surprised. That’s five more minutes than before.

The presenter quickly rattles out the names. Madara isn’t even surprised when, in addition to him and Tobirama, Touka and Izuna, Mito and Hashirama, and Kakuzu and Itama got in. The fifth couple is the one formed by Gengetsu and Muu.

Or at least, so he thinks, because the moment the presenter finishes off saying their names, he and Tobirama are sprinting towards the campus at full speed.

At least, Madara reflects wryly as everyone follows their example to dash around and hopefully get clean and warm before the next part, _this_ time they’re not running with their feet tied with a big pink ribbon.

 

 

 

Fifteen minutes is barely long enough for Tobirama and Madara to clean themselves. Tobirama claims the shower, having mud down his shirt, while Madara makes do with dunking his head in the sink, and using some soapy water to get the worst of the mud out of his hair and skin.

When Tobirama gets out, after what has to be the shortest shower in the history of men, Madara tosses him one of his shirts and a jacket. He’s hesitating between two jackets himself. On the one hand, the red one is his favorite. On the other hand, the blue one is warmer.

“Should I put on the red one or the blue one?” Madara asks Tobirama, distracted.

“The blue one,” Tobirama says, over the rustle of clothes. “We’ll match, that way.”

“We-” Madara starts, confused, only to turn around and almost choke on the next word- “ _will?!_ ”

Tobirama arches a brow at him, looking faintly confused. Madara feels like he’s dying a little. His shirt is clinging very nicely to Tobirama’s chest, whose hair is still humid. Madara feels almost offended that it doesn’t make him look like a drowned cat. No one has any right to look so good when stepping out of a shower!

Madara quickly shakes his head, and turns away, grabbing the blue jacket and putting it on. Hopefully, it hides how red he’s getting.

“Right,” he says, and focuses on the fact that he _did_ in fact, hand over a blue jacket for Tobirama. “We’ll match.” Slowly, he grins. “Mito is going to be furious.”

Tobirama shakes his head, looking amused.

“You and Mito have a very odd friendship,” he says.

Madara blinks, puzzled, and Tobirama snorts.

“Come on,” he says, “It’s almost been fifteen minutes.”

“Oh hell no!” Madara says, suddenly realizing that they _have_ taken long enough. “After all that trouble, I’m not getting disqualified for being late!”

They take off out of the flat barely a second later.

It’s only when Mito arches a brow at their arrival that Madara realizes he’s been dragging Tobirama by the hand all this time. And, he realizes with some surprise, apparently _they're_ not the only ones that are matching. Mito and Hashirama both are wearing green jumpers. Izuna and Touka have put on a red hoodie and a red jacket respectively. Even Itama and Kakuzu are wearing the same color!

Hell, Muu and Gengetsu match too, even if it’s because they both are huddled in beige coats.

“Way to feel original,” Madara mutters to Tobirama, who hums distractedly.

“Contestants!” The presenter chose this moments to announce into the mic. “On stage! The first round of the Trivia Quiz is _on_!”

 

 

 

By the time the final round rolls by, and with it the last slew of questions, Madara is sweating, despite the cold. Who knew that taking turns slamming on a button to answer a few innocuous questions about the president of the neighboring country, or the name of an exotic fruit could be so nerve-wracking?

On his left, Izuna is languidly leaning on the table, looking bored. The sly little shit has been taking advantage of his position to get to the button faster, and Madara is fuming inside.

He can barely make out the crowd of curious onlookers in front of the stage, his entire attention onto the presenter.

“We’re almost there,” Tobirama says quietly, a steady presence on his right.

“Yeah,” Madara agrees, just as quietly.

Madara is so glad to have him on his team - they wouldn’t have made it half as far without his knowledge of so much random shit. How did Tobirama even _know_ all these things?

Itama and Kakuzu got disqualified during the first trivia round - although they hadn’t seemed all that devastated about it, Itama had still burst into disappointed tears, and managed to wrangle some consolation prize for both him and Kakuzu. Madara was frankly impressed with how devious that was.

On the other hand, Muu and Gengetsu both were sore losers. After losing the second round, they both almost had started a fight before storming right out of the stage.

“Next question!” The presenter calls, and Madara’s focus narrows on him. “How many inhabitants does the island of Uzushio-”

Madara reaches for the button slowly, brain screaming in panic. He has absolutely no clue!

_Buzz!_

Mito smirks smugly when her hand slams onto the button first, not even letting the presenter finish the question, and answers clearly.

“Thirty-two thousand and eight hundred,” she says, as if that’s not _her_ island, and as if she’s not the mayor’s daughter - and as such probably could tell you the exact number of people in her sleep.

“Correct!” The presenter says cheerfully. “And the green team is still in the lead by three points now!”

Dejected, Madara slumps back in his chair. Three points. There are only four more questions. Unless he and Tobirama somehow answer all of them correctly, they can kiss that gold card goodbye.

“Mito is going to be insufferable if they win,” Izuna mutters next to him.

“Forget Mito,” Touka answers him darkly, “ _Hashirama_ is going to be rubbing his true love rhetoric in our face for _months_ if they do.”

Madara exchanges a dark look with Tobirama. That’s something neither of them wants to suffer through.

“Oi, Madara, Tobirama,” Izuna calls almost discreetly.

“What?” Madara hisses back.

“If we help you win,” Izuna says, “You better treat us to coffee!”

Madara startles, and next to him, Tobirama does too. But it makes sense. Izuna and Touka have no chance of winning, already five points behind everyone else. They would need to win seven more questions right to get in the lead - and there aren’t seven more questions.

Tobirama and Madara exchange looks once more, before nodding.

More than free coffee, they’re competing for their peace at the moment. Hashirama and Mito _can’t_ win.

“Deal,” they both offer in a breath, just as the presenter cries out for the next question.

Thankfully, it’s Tobirama’s turn, and there’s little Hashirama can do against his little brother when the question isn’t something about plants or pop culture. And even then, Tobirama sometimes just has a lot of random knowledge stored in that big brain of his.

They win the point, and move on to the next question.

“Alright,” the presenter says, even as Madara prepares to slam the button no matter what the question is, “In what year did the civil war era end in Fire Country?”

_Shit_ , Madara thinks, even as he slams on the button hard. He knows that one! He knows it, if only he could have five more seconds to think-

_Buzz_!

Izuna got to the button first. Madara stares at him, and his brother gives him a pointed look, before making a show of slowly taking his time to hesitate to give a year. Madara could hug him.

Thankfully, when Izuna answers wrong, _he's_ the first one to get to the button next.

_Buzz_!

“Year 762!” He answers quickly, heart hammering in his chest.

“That’s right!” The presenter says. “Blue team is catching up quickly! One more point, and they’ll be at the same point count as green team!”

Madara lets out a relieved sigh, and slumps back in his seat to let Tobirama answer the next one. A glance to the left, and he almost grins. Izuna winks back. Instead of snorting, Madara subtly extends his hand, and high-fives his brother under the table.

“That’s _correct!_ ” the presenter says, and Tobirama sits back heavily in his chair, looking smug. “Green team and Blue team are now tied! This last question will be the tie-breaker, my friends!”

Holy shit. Madara straightens up, nerves bundling up and clogging his throat.

A glance to the right shows that Mito is leaning forward, expression intense. She looks ready to murder someone to get to the button first.

Madara swallows, and readies himself as well.

“And now, the final question!” The presenter says. He looks at all of them. “I hope you’re ready? This is your last chance to win.”

_Stop building tension, and ask, damn it!_ Madara screams internally.

“Now, the question is,” the presenter says, and trails off slowly, much to Madara’s aggravation, “Which animal from Australia was thought not to be real-”

Madara stands up so quickly his chair falls, and slams the button so hard he’s pretty sure he breaks something, but he doesn’t care.

_Buzzzzzz!_

“A platypus!” He shouts.

For a moment, all is silent after his cry, as if the whole world was holding its breath. Then, slowly, the presenter starts to clap.

“Correct!” He says loudly, and smiles widely.

Madara, stunned, stays where he’s standing staring at the presenter. A rustle, and a flash of white in the corner of his vision.

“I can’t believe those cramming sessions about the Australian fauna actually stuck with me,” he tells Tobirama weakly, unable to move to look at him.

Just at that moment, the presenter grins, and all but shouts.

“Congratulation, Blue Team wins!”

There’s a loud commotion, people cheering and clapping, but Madara doesn’t care. With a stunned laugh, he turns to Tobirama, a whoop of joy on the tip of his tongue-

Tobirama, looking elated, grabs his face and kisses him soundly on the mouth.

When they separate, Madara’s face is burning, and Tobirama doesn’t look much better. The crowd is whooping and cheering, some people wolf-whistling at them. Madara is pretty sure he can hear Hashirama wailing and Izuna shouting in outrage, but all he can do is stare, stunned, at Tobirama.

“Ah, sorry,” Tobirama says, his entire face red. “I got carried away.”

“That’s- um, that’s fine-” Madara stammers, unsure what to think or to feel or-

“I apologize for interrupting this sweet moment,” the presenter says, voice sounding from everywhere around them, “But here is your prize, lovebirds!”

Madara and Tobirama startle, finding the man right in front of them, offering them a shining, beautiful gold card with a stylized leaf on it.

“Congratulations again,” the presenter says, even as they both take the card at the same time.

He saunters away, going to thank the crowd and the other participants, and the organizers, but Madara and Tobirama stay right where they are, staring at the card. The single, unique card. That they need to share.

Ah.

“Well then,” Tobirama suddenly says, breaking the strange stalemate. “I guess we’ll have to go for coffee together.”

Madara looks up so fast he thinks his neck cracks, staring at the albino’s face.

“Are you,” he starts, words failing him, “are you inviting me on- ?”

Tobirama stares back, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Unless you don’t want to,” he says slowly.

“No, no,” Madara quickly says. “I want to! Coffee! Sounds great!”

Tobirama relaxes immediately, and grabs Madara’s hand in his, the gold card held between them.

“Great,” he echoes. Then, “It’s a date.”

At this exact moment, several people let out screams of rage. Madara whirls around to find a scarily smiling Hashirama heading their way, Mito gleefully hot on his heels, Itama trailing behind them with a terrifying  sweet smile. Kakuzu, tellingly, is mouthing “R.I.P” at him from a safe distance away.

A glance behind shows that Touka and Izuna both look just as ready to jump them to beat them to death, although Izuna looks more ready to murder Tobirama than Madara thankfully.

Nervously, Madara takes a step back.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He offers with a grimace.

“Yes, please,” Tobirama agrees.

They share a look, and then hanging onto each other’s hands tightly, they take off running. Behind them several voices cry in outrage, but Madara doesn’t turn to look.

Tobirama, who did, lets out a breathless laugh.

Glancing at him, eyes bright and cheeks red, Madara can feel his heart turn over in his chest.

What do you know. Maybe there _was_ something to this season of love.


End file.
